


i know better than to call you mine

by aliciutza



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: -ish? I mean they're not quite enemies but ao3 does not have a proper tag for this, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Jon Snow has a Big Dick, Jon Snow is very romantic and this is the seduction of Daenerys Targaryen, Requited Unrequited Love, Sexual Tension, Smut, Valentine's Day, anyway! and they were rivals, i mean they sort of hate each other but not really?, no beta we die like meh, of course because it's me, read about Jon Snow trying to cram the equivalent of 4 dates in 1
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-17 17:27:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29475453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aliciutza/pseuds/aliciutza
Summary: Single on Valentine's Day, Jon Snow spends the holiday roaming the streets of Oldtown. Of all the people he thought he might run into on this fateful night, it had to be Daenerys Targaryen—fellow student at the Citadel and daughter of a marchioness. There's just one problem: she hates his guts. Oh and has he mentioned that despite her rejection, he's been crushing on her since the moment he first saw her? So when he is presented with a unique opportunity to change her mind about him, Jon can't help but jump on it. The challenge: he only has a few hours to make her fall in love with him.“Hi—” he tried.“Justdon’t.” He didn’t miss the way her thumb swiped under her eyes, even if her head was still turned away from him.So he did the one thing he always did: be a jerk to her.“What, is there no celebration happening tonight that’s good enough for theprincess?”
Relationships: Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen
Comments: 70
Kudos: 255





	i know better than to call you mine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [atetheredmind](https://archiveofourown.org/users/atetheredmind/gifts).



> A late Valentine’s Day gift for Ames. I was supposed to post this yesterday but got derailed by personal life matters. I know I told you about this over a month ago, but I just couldn't stop thinking about it :D and I think it has quite a few things you like hehe. Thank you for always being there for me. And when there's no one else left in this fandom, I'll still gift you fics! 
> 
> Fever dream fic 100 % inspired by Finneas’s Let’s Fall in Love for the Night. Go listen to that song ;) Relationship dynamic (sort of) inspired by Samuel x Carla from Elite, but don’t worry if you don’t know who they are, I promise you have to look really hard to pick up on those elements. Oldtown is half inspired by Venice half by Amsterdam.
> 
> Dany edit in the moodboard by the talented Jenn (dracarysqueen on tumblr) 💜

Winter stuck to the barren willow branches like bad perfume. The cold air burned his lungs with every deep breath. It was supposed to snow tonight; no more than a light dusting over the cobbled streets of Oldtown. In the past six months, Jon had come to appreciate the ancient port city; it was home in ways Winterfell could never be. 

The night was still young, but the restaurants were already opening their doors, preparing for the numerous intimate dinners that were to be held in celebration of Valentine’s Day. Jon didn’t care much for the holiday—mainly a Southerner thing—even if in the last years it started gaining popularity north of the Neck. Perhaps he’d feel differently about it if he had someone in his life. 

The wind picked up the closer he got to the Sunset Sea. He pulled the collar of his leather jacket higher, then stuffed his hands in the pockets. He didn’t really have a destination in mind, but Grenn, his roommate, needed the studio flat they shared empty for the night. Like most people in a relationship, his friend wanted to surprise his girlfriend with a romantic evening. Jon was happy to get out of their way; not like he was looking forward to all the sex noises that he knew would come out of Grenn’s room for most of the evening. 

The narrow streets of Oldtown also meant that there was only so much of the city one could see by car. Jon left his mother’s—well, now _his_ —car parked on one of the wider streets, then continued on foot. With every stone bridge he crossed, his aimless wandering was leading him closer to the port. Now and then, he’d pass a couple, huddled together on the sidewalk, making out or just holding hands. Love was undeniably in the air. All the restaurants he’d passed seemed to already be working at their maximum capacity. A violinist was playing some cheesy tune somewhere; he couldn't tell from where the sound came, only that it wasn’t far away. 

The cobbled roads converged to a big square; one of its sides opened to the port. To the left, it led to the touristic and commercial part; to the right, the stone path narrowed to a small marina. The rich kept their private yachts and other luxury boats there. People such as himself had no business being there, but it offered one of the most breathtaking views of the gulf. On clear days, one could see the tops of Three Towers castle. Jon knew the way like the back of his hand. He’d been on the same walk quite a few times since September. 

Movement caught his attention from the corner of his eyes just as he was about to turn right to the marina. He’d recognise that moonlight hair anywhere; after all, Daenerys Targaryen haunted his dreams like she belonged in them. 

He never saw her by herself; there was always someone by her side—her fuckboy of a boyfriend, or one of her so-called friends. There was just something about Daenerys that had him come back for more, even in spite of her biting words. Who knew if he’d ever get to catch her alone? He hesitated only for a heartbeat, then spun on his heel in her direction. 

_Fuck_ , Jon cringed at his impulsive decision. 

His boots clicked on the damp stone path, echoing off the nearby buildings. Her head snapped up at him; he could have sworn there was a flash of sadness in her violet eyes, right before they turned cold. 

She huffed and turned her back to him, looking towards the sea. She wore a silk dark red dress—though it should have barely qualified as such—that dipped low on her back, fully exposing it to the cold February air and his gaze; Jon swallowed. His eyes travelled down her body, where the material clung to her perfect arse, then flowed like a crimson river to pool at her feet. She didn’t have a coat. When he got to her side, he noticed her skin was prickled with goosebumps. 

“Hi—” he tried. 

“Just _don’t_.” He didn’t miss the way her thumb swiped under her eyes, even if her head was still turned away from him.

So he did the one thing he always did: be a jerk to her. 

“What, is there no celebration happening tonight that’s good enough for the _princess_?”

“It’s _marchioness_ , you jerk. And that title doesn’t belong to me yet if you must know,” she spat, still not looking at him.

Jon didn’t hide his smirk. Of course he knew; he just thought ‘princess’ suited her better. She walked away from him, getting closer to the edge of the boardwalk. He fought against the instinct to reach out and pull her closer to him before she slipped and fell into the icy water. The silence stretched, colder than any physical distance she put between them. It wasn’t even eight, but the sky was dark; her hair shone in the yellow light of the streetlamp under which she had walked. There was a slight change in her—it was in her slumped shoulders and the way she looked close to breaking down. It was the most vulnerable he’d ever seen her. The skinny crimson straps of her dress crisscrossed across her shoulder blades. He followed them with his eyes, up over her shoulders and down where they converged in a v-shaped cleavage. Even from this far, he could guess the contours of her pebbled nipples. 

_Fuck_ , he didn't think she wore a bra.

In three long strides, he was beside her again. “Your Khal standing you up?” He was, of course, talking about her boyfriend. 

“None of your business,” she snapped at him. This was the Daenerys he was used to: cold, mean, haughty. 

“Trouble in paradise then?” When she didn’t reply, he pushed further. “What is it then? Is the _burden_ of being part of one of the richest families in Westeros crushing you? Are you going to slum it with the rest of us for the night so you can appreciate your riches more?”

“Fuck you, Jon,” she threw a punch to his chest. His fingers curled around her tiny fist. Even in heels, he still had a good height over her. He didn’t miss that this was the first time she actually used his name since September. For a moment he thought she looked hurt; Daenerys wasn’t the type to be wounded by mere words—they were her best weapon.

Instead, he smirked. “If you ask nicely...” 

“Ugh, you’re so childish.” Daenerys snatched her hand from his grasp, then put half a step of a distance between them. 

He couldn't back down; not now when he was close to breaking through her walls. “So what, was the restaurant not up to your standards? Was the gift too cheap? Did he not drop to one knee and present you with the biggest diamond his money could buy?”

She flinched; he’d finally hit his mark. Tears glistened in her eyes as she pinned him in place with her intense gaze. 

“I hope payback feels as good as you thought it would. Do you think you have some sort of monopoly over problems? Just because you _think_ my life is perfect, doesn’t mean it actually is. Stop projecting your shortcomings on others, and most of all—on me. You don’t know me, Jon Snow.” She choked out his name with a trembling voice, the mask finally slipping off her beautiful face. Underneath, he found a broken-hearted girl who looked much younger than she was. “Just leave me alone, Snow. Go back to...whatever it is you’re doing here.”

“Daenerys—” 

She shook her head and walked away from the sea, her heels furiously clicking against the cobbled square. He knew then that he fucked up; horribly, too. 

It didn’t take much to catch up to her. Despite the slippery floor, she moved effortlessly across the large plaza. “Where are you going?” 

She didn’t slow down. “Away from you.”

He scoffed but tried leveling the playing field again. “Do you even know where you are headed to?”

When they reached the square’s edge, she stopped to look around. “Being nosey is still considered rude, Jon. Alas, you wouldn’t know what qualifies as such.” 

He couldn’t stop the grin from splitting his face. A few more digs at him and things would go back to normal—or at least what qualified as such for them. “But that is my best quality, as you keep reminding me, _princess_.”

She stopped and turned to scowl at him, her gaze as hard and unyielding as ice. “Leave me alone, _Snow_.” This time, she said his name in that affected tone he’d come to enjoy over the past months. Although he knew she used it to remind him of his lower status, it had lost its edge somewhere around the holidays. 

“No, can’t do,” he shook his head. “If I leave you alone and anything were to happen to you, I’m sure your family will make me pay for it with my life.” She didn’t back down, but neither did he. “So you see, I have no choice, but to deliver you to safety myself. Can’t have a woman of your status wandering the streets alone late at night.”

“How do I know you’re not the one kidnapping me?” Daenerys hugged her arms around herself.

“Well, you’re just going to have to trust me,” he grinned. 

“I’d rather jump into the sea,” she rolled her eyes. 

“I’d have to jump in after you. What part of _I can’t let anything happen to you tonight_ don’t you understand?”

Daenerys scowled at him. “What will it take for you to leave me alone?” 

“As I keep saying, your safety comes first. So either your dumbarse boyfriend materialises soon, or you’re stuck with me.” 

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Or you can give me your phone and I can call my driver to come pick me up.” 

“Battery’s dead,” he replied, a little too quickly.

She saw right through him. “Convenient.”

Jon simply shrugged. 

“What do you propose we do then?” Although she tried to sound disinterested, Jon knew she had already made up her mind. 

He went for nonchalance. “My car’s a few streets away. I can give you a lift home.”

The wind blew a few strands of her hair across her face. She hugged herself tighter and sighed. “Just lead the way, Snow.” 

This time he didn’t hide his smirk. He slowed down to make sure she could match his pace. They didn’t talk at all for the entire length of the first street. When they reached the canals, Daenerys shivered again. Without hesitating he shrugged out of his leather jacket and put it over her shoulders. She stiffened for a second then relaxed. 

“You don’t have to do this,” she stopped to slip the jacket from her small body. 

He stopped her. “I’d rather you didn’t catch pneumonia. It’s not good for me if I fail to deliver you in anything but pristine condition—remember?”

She scoffed as he stepped into her personal space. He righted the jacket around her shoulders and popped the collar up for good measure. He could have sworn her breath hitched when his thumbs grazed the column of her neck. He let his touch linger for a beat longer than necessary. 

“Thank you,” she whispered when he stepped back. Jon nodded then continued walking. She easily fell into step with him. 

“Are you going to tell me what happened with your boyfriend?” he asked eventually. 

“Why do you keep asking? Do you have a crush on him? For the record, he’s going to be flattered, you are quite _pretty_.”

He stopped in his tracks. “Afraid I might steal him?”

She shook her head, “Drogo doesn’t swing that way. Would still boost his gigantic ego.”

Jon grinned. “So _where_ is your hunk of a boyfriend?” 

They walked in silence for a few moments. Just when he thought she would ignore his question, she finally replied. “If I were to guess, probably still in the Hightower restaurant’s bathroom, balls deep in some brunette.” 

Jon frowned. “So he broke up with you on Valentine’s Day?”

“I wish,” she sighed.

Jon stopped just before the second bridge. Was he hearing things? 

“It’s complicated. I—nevermind,” Daenerys shook her head. “You judge me plenty already, I’d rather not give you more ammunition.”

When he didn’t speak, she sighed and rested her pretty arse against the stone bridge, crossing her left ankle over her right. From this position, he could see that her dress had a hidden slit that only opened when she moved her legs a certain way. 

After a pregnant pause, she spoke again. “Look, Jon, I don’t need your pity.”

“Who said anything about pity?”

“It’s written all over your face,” she grimaced. “Just let me text my chauffeur so he can come collect me. You can stay until he arrives if it helps you sleep better tonight. But you don’t have to pretend that you care.” She took off his jacket and handed it to him. “Here, now we can just go back to hating each other.”

He stared between his jacket and her shivering form. Daenerys was the most stubborn person he’d ever met. “Put the bloody jacket back on, princess.” He walked up to her and leaned against the railing, right beside her. 

She turned to watch him, arm still half extended with his jacket. 

Jon sighed. “Do you want to know what I _really_ think?” At her nod, he continued. “I think you’re the most obstinate person in the entire Westeros when it comes to me. You made up your mind from day one and I didn’t even get a chance to change it. If I think a certain way about you, it’s because you never let me think otherwise.”

She bristled under his gaze, her fingers clenching around the worn black leather of his jacket. 

“I also think your boyfriend is an imbecile. After all, who in their right mind would let you go when you look like this?”

Even in the faint glow of the streetlamps, he could see her blush. He wanted to see her do that again. 

“Really, Jon? Pity compliments?”

He arched a brow at her. “I’m just stating facts.”

“We both know I’m not your type,” Daenerys rolled her eyes as she finally relented and put on the blasted jacket. Jon hoped it would remain on her for the rest of the night. 

He shook his head, chuckling. “Again with the assumptions.” He pushed off from the railing and turned to block her between the bridge and his body. Her breath hitched as he lowered his lips to her ear. He whispered, voice low and soft only for her, “If you really must know, you’re _exactly_ my type, princess.”

She slowly turned her face to him. Her gaze flickered to his mouth then back to stare into his eyes. “Really?”

Afraid to break the spell he created around them, he nodded once. “Am _I_ your type, Daenerys?” 

She bit her lip, then nodded. 

He knew he was pushing his luck. But in for a penny, in for a dragon. “If you weren’t Daenerys Targaryen, would you have said yes to a date with me?” 

“Yes,” she whispered all too eagerly. 

He grinned. “Then let me take you out on a date. Pretend that you don’t hate me for a few hours—see where it goes.”

Daenerys looked like she was unsure whether to laugh or scowl at him. “Is this where you tell me you’re dying and you want a hate fuck before you die?”

He gave her his best shite-eating grin. “The only way I’d ever agree to fuck you would be because you begged me to, Daenerys.“

They were still standing close, so he saw the exact moment her pupils dilated. He could feel the heat emanating from her body. She smelled like lavender and something citrusy. 

“So?” he asked. 

“When?” 

“Now.”

“You’re joking,” she frowned. 

Jon shook his head. “I’m dead serious. Give me until midnight, and I’ll deliver you home myself.” 

He held his breath while she pondered his crazy proposal. After a few excruciating moments, she put him out of his misery. “Fine.” 

He bit his lower lip to stop himself from crushing his mouth to hers. “Fine,” he rasped. It took all of his self-control to push away from her body. “I hope you’re ready to fall in love with me, Daenerys.”

She shook her head but still offered him her brightest smile. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

He intertwined his fingers with hers and pulled her after him. So what if he wasn’t ready to admit to her that he’d been dreaming of her writhing under him for the better part of the semester? At least she finally deemed him worthy of a shot.

The first notes of a song Jon knew too well filled the chilly evening air of Oldtown. He stopped in the middle of the bridge and spun her back until she was caught in his embrace. His left hand travelled beneath his leather jacket to rest at the small of her back, while his right positioned her fingers in a more natural state. He swayed them slowly, not quite following the strict steps of the dance, but enough for it to be in rhythm with the melody. 

“Did you know that this song was composed by a septa who’s said to have fallen in love with a maester?” he asked, his eyes never leaving hers. 

She followed his lead effortlessly, like the daughter of a marchioness who was expected to know everything about ballroom dancing and etiquette. “Oh?”

He nodded. “Star-crossed lovers. There’s just something about them, don’t you think,” Jon whispered as the melody swelled, reaching its climax. He twirled her, then planted his left foot, dipping her low. He watched as she exposed the column of her neck to him. The milky skin called to him in sweet surrender. He didn’t even try to resist it; he planted an open-mouthed kiss below her chin. He felt the shiver that travelled through her body at the contact of his lips. 

When he pulled her upright, she stared back at him, dazed, biting her lower lip. “You’re just full of surprises, Jon.”

He preened at the use of his given name. “And you don’t even know the half of it.” He could get addicted to seeing her cheeks in that rose blush, knowing that he was the cause of it. 

Another song started just as he tucked her hair behind her ear. “Tell me, did you even get to enjoy dinner with—”

Daenerys covered his lips with her fingers. “If I’m to give you a proper chance, you can’t mention anything about that.”

Jon kissed her fingertips. “I only wanted to know if I could still treat you to a tasty dinner.”

“On Valentine’s Day? There’s no way you’d get any type of reservation anywhere in the entire Reach,” Daenerys laughed. “But yes, I’m quite famished.”

Jon looked around, trying to think of the fastest route to the destination he had in mind. “Underestimating me again, aren’t we?” he grinned at her. “This way,” he pulled her in the opposite way of his car. Daenerys followed him, no questions asked. He didn’t let go of her hand. If he was honest, he quite liked the way her palm fitted into his. When they got to a dimly lit corner, he pulled her hand to his lips and brushed a quick kiss on her knuckles.

She laughed. “Who would have thought that Jon Snow was such a romantic.”

“If only you’d paid more attention to me,” he tsked. Before she could retaliate, Jon turned sharp onto a smaller alley, then knocked on a wooden door. He winked at her. “Wait here.” 

The door opened with a groan, and Jon put his head through the opening. “I need a favour.”

Davos chuckled at him. “Look what the cat dragged in on this fateful night.”

“I’m here with someone. Can I get two of the usual to go?” Jon hoped Davos wouldn’t ask too many questions. He’d met the old man through Grenn, who knew him through his father. Seaworth’s was one of his favourite places in Oldtown. The ex-sailor ran a tight ship loved by locals and tourists alike, a restaurant with comfort foods from all over Westeros during the day, turned into a pub with a live band during the evening and till sunrise. 

“Must be a special occasion then. Coming right up, son,” the old man grinned knowingly. 

Jon nodded then turned back to Daenerys. She was eyeing him suspiciously. “What is this place?”

“Only the best pub in Oldtown,” he stated smugly. He frowned as a worrying thought crossed his mind. “You don’t have any allergies, do you?”

She shook her head. 

It didn’t take long for Davos to poke his head out of the door and thrust a paper bag in his hands. He gave Daenerys a wink and wished them a lovely evening. Jon didn’t waste time; he grabbed her hand and led her back to the main street, then made a sharp turn onto one of the narrow canals. He was walking briskly now; if she was uncomfortable with the pace, she showed no discomfort. He still had no idea how she managed to keep perfect balance on the wet cobblestones in those high heels. 

When they reached the stone bench Jon sat down first, right in the middle. He could see the insult on the tip of her tongue, but he didn’t give her a chance to say anything. Instead, he pulled her down until her lovely arse sat on top of his left thigh. 

Her hands shot up around his neck to steady herself. Her squeal of surprise turned into a soft laugh. 

“The bench is cold,” he shrugged. 

One of her perfect eyebrows arched up. “Oh?” 

“I told you, pristine state and all that. All part of the Jon Snow package,” he smirked. 

“Well, then, I quite enjoy this much attention to detail,” Daenerys relaxed and scooched closer until her right side was flush against his chest. She reached around his shoulders and sunk her fingers in his hair, right at the base of his neck. His eyes fluttered closed the moment her nails raked against his scalp; he could definitely get used to this. 

“I think I was promised some fine dining,” she whispered, her breath tickling his neck. He had to fight against the moan that wanted to erupt from his throat. 

He splayed the fingers of his left hand over her hip. He didn’t miss the subtle shiver of her body when he pretended to adjust her on his thigh. “Only the best for _my_ princess,” he rasped as he pushed the paper bag into her lap. With one hand, he opened it to reveal two grilled sandwiches. He gave one to her, then took the other for himself. 

Jon watched with bated breath as she took the first bite. 

“Oh gods,” she moaned, her mouth still full. 

He welcomed the coldness of the stone bench underneath his arse; it was the only thing keeping his dick from being fully hard. It would have been impossible for him to hide a boner when her thigh pressed like that against his crotch. Still, he knew that no matter how the night ended, he’d never be able to forget that moan. 

They ate slowly, pausing to reply to her questions about the sandwich, the recipe, and the ingredients; she asked how he discovered the place, and how the hells did he get Davos to serve him tonight. It still surprised him when Daenerys looked genuinely interested in learning things about him. He pushed away the thought that she might merely be pretending to enjoy his company and that he was a distraction. 

He answered her as honestly as he could. He left out that Davos had been insisting since September that Daenerys acted like a bitch to him because she liked him. Instead, he told her about Grenn, Pyp, Sam, and his other friends, about the nights they spent drinking in the pub and the days they spent helping the old man in the kitchen. 

Daenerys was grinning at him.

“What?” he asked as her eyes kept flickering to his mouth. 

“You have some pesto here,” she touched underneath the corner of her mouth. 

Jon brushed the spot she indicated.

She shook her head. “Here,” her cold finger trailed from the corner of his mouth to the spot the sauce had stained his face. He watched, mesmerised, as she put the same finger in her mouth and gently sucked on it. “Not a drop wasted,” she said, her eyes glistening with something dangerous. 

“I’m glad you agree,” Jon rasped as he tightened his hold on her hip. 

His right hand reached up to push her hair behind her ear. He wondered if she could feel his heartbeat in the arm that rested against his chest. He leaned in until there was barely any space between their lips. Her hot breath fanned across his face and tickled his cheeks. Daenerys’ gaze softened; the violet never looked as inviting as it did in that moment. The air around them filled with the same static tension that coursed through his veins. His tongue darted out of his mouth and he slowly licked across her lips. Before his own eyes closed, he saw hers roll back and flutter shut. He felt her sigh of relief as his mouth finally slanted across hers, capturing her bottom then her upper lip, tasting with soft nips, taking his time discovering what she liked. 

Daenerys opened her mouth, demanding more. He willingly relinquished control of the kiss to her. She shifted, and he felt her wrap her arms around his neck, her fingers burrowing in his curls, pulling on his half-bun, surely creating a mess. She could do anything to him, as long as she kept kissing him like that. Her tongue pushed inside his mouth, dragging out moans from deep inside his chest. When she needed a moment to catch her breath, her kisses slowed to lazy pecks. He could feel her smiling through each touch of her soft lips against his. 

She hid her face under his chin. It was wonderfully liberating to see Daenerys shy. It wasn’t something he thought he’d ever get to see. When she finally pulled back to look at him, her cheeks still held an endearing rose blush to them. 

He couldn’t hide his smug smirk. “I thought the first kiss was supposed to happen at the end of the night.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she tried hard to suppress her smile. “It clearly had everything to do with the sandwich.”

“Does this mean I get to claim a second first kiss?”

She rolled her eyes and stood up. “So, what’s next?”

He let it slide this time. He hoped for many more kisses before the night would inevitably come to an end. 

“Let’s see, we did dancing and dining. Ideas are most welcome, by the way.” Jon stood up to take her hand in his again. He chucked the paper bag in a rubbish bin and took them back to the main street, where his car was parked. 

“Ah, but I was promised a seduction. I’m not going to make it easy for you, Jon. Where’s the fun in that?” 

Jon hummed in agreement. He could already see his car in the distance. He squeezed her hand as an idea slowly took form in his mind. He checked his wristwatch, trying not to be disappointed when he found that they’d somehow already spent over two hours together. Minutes ticked by faster in her presence, especially when she looked at him like they could have some sort of future together. Sure, she was still the same infuriating person, and he wouldn’t have her any other way. At least tonight he could shut her up with a kiss when she annoyed him, or do something unexpected and watch her squirm and blush instead. 

Daenerys was still raving about the sandwich when they crossed the street. He dug in his front pocket, blindly feeling for a silver dragon. When they passed the flower vendor (who somehow was always waiting at the corner of this street), Jon pulled a blue winter rose from the wicker basket. He left the silver and winked at the old man. Daenerys was too engrossed in her rant about underrated local restaurants to notice. He still heard her when she let it slip.

“—maybe next time we can eat at the restaurant.” She stopped abruptly, avoiding his eyes, suddenly very interested in the pavement. 

He stepped into her personal space, gently nudging her chin up with the winter rose. She looked at him, confused by the flower. “I will take you there whenever you want. You just need to ask.”

She brushed her fingers across the soft blue petals. “You’re so cheesy,” she shook her head, smiling. But there was no bite in her words. 

“Seemed like the sort of thing you’d appreciate.” He kissed her cheek—a soft brush of his lips against her pristine skin. Daenerys shivered. “Come now,” he slithered his fingers through hers and headed towards the car. “I have just one last destination in mind before I deliver you home. Three more hours to midnight and until the spell breaks,” he held the door open for her, hoping his face didn’t show the disappointment he was feeling at the prospect of going back to before. 

She nodded then got in the car. 

He took out his wallet and phone from his pockets, tucking both into the door compartment. Once inside the car, the engine immediately roared to life. 

“Shall I be worried about this hidden kidnapping agenda?” Daenerys asked as she adjusted the seat for her comfort. 

“I guess you’ll have to trust me for a few more hours,” he replied as he drove out of the city. 

To his side, Daenerys started fidgeting with the sleeves of his jacket. “Do you have a cigarette?” she suddenly asked. Without waiting for an answer, she rifled through the pockets. Unsurprisingly, she only came up with chewing gum.

Jon turned to her so she could see his furrowed brow. “What made you think I’d smoke?”

“Well, where shall I start?” She counted on her fingers each reason: “The bad boy attitude, the leather jacket, the man bun, your beard, your stupid muscles, and—lastly, but not least important—your tight as fuck jeans.”

“Been studying me, have you?” he grinned, eyes flashing to her then back at the road. They made it to the highway.

“I am not gonna deem that question with a reply.” 

Jon scoffed. “What am I, a walking stereotype? Yes, we’ve established that you have many preconceived ideas about me, but give me some credit, will you.” Daenerys rolled her eyes. “To answer your question: no, I don’t smoke.”

Daenerys groaned. “I really want one though.”

He chuckled. Her pout was cute; seeing her bottom lip pushed out like that made him want to kiss her again. “Check the glove compartment. My sister forgot a pack when she visited over the holidays.” 

She did as instructed and squealed when she opened the pack to find it half full. “Do you mind?” She motioned to the cigarette before she lit it. 

Jon shook his head and opened the window just a bit so the smoke could get out. “I didn’t think miss perfect smoked.” 

“You know nothing about me, Snow.”

He boldly reached over the stick shift and took her free hand in his. “I guess I don’t.” This time she was the one to entwine their fingers. Without looking at her, he brought their hands to his mouth so he could plant a kiss above her knuckles. He then rested them on the stick. It was faint, and perhaps if he wasn’t so aware of her presence he might not have noticed it, but he felt every subtle squeeze of his hand. She always did them in sets of three. 

Cigarette finished, she closed the window and reached for the radio. 

“I love this song!” she then started singing along. It was only during the chorus that she realised he was singing along. “There’s no way you know the lyrics to this song!” she laughed. 

Instead of saying something, he perfectly sang the rest of it. The verses told of the kind of love story that every girl in Westeros dreamed about. It was an old song that had been played at all the weddings he’d attended, but recently the artist remastered it, thus bringing it back on the radio to be played to death for the new generation of little girls (and boys) dreaming of their perfect prince. He knew it probably sounded ridiculous, but when she looked at him with those big violet eyes and laughed like that, he couldn't bring himself to care that he was making a fool out of himself. 

When the song ended, she turned the volume down until it became background noise. 

“Spill. How do you even know that song?”

“If you ever mention what you just witnessed to anyone, I will deny everything,” he tried to sound menacing. Her grin told him that he was failing miserably at it. 

He sighed. “My sister drove us insane with it when it came out. I think I could probably sing it in my sleep.”

Daenerys laughed then brought their joined hands to her lips. “Tell me about your family.”

A shiver ran down his spine as her lips touched his thumb. And he did tell her about the Starks; about his sisters, brothers, and his parents; about finding out that he was adopted and needing to prove his worth (hence the different family name); about making peace and letting go of old grudges against his biological family. She listened to everything, drinking in every single phrase, and catching on to every slight tremble of his voice, holding his hand in her lap, and kissing his knuckles when she felt he needed a nudge. 

Perhaps he’d said too much—or perhaps it wasn’t enough. But opening his soul to her and laying his heart at her feet was just too easy to not do it. He finished his story just in time, as they finally left the highway behind them. 

“It’s just at the top of this hill,” he explained as he parked on the side of the road. He already missed the feeling of her fingers wrapped around his.

Daenerys got out of the car and came to meet him on his side. This time she grabbed his hand and led the way.

“You don’t even know where you’re going,” he chuckled but made no way of stopping her. She was going in the right direction.

“No, but I imagine whatever you want to show me has to be visible from there—” she pointed to a lone bench at the top of the hill. 

When they reached the bench, she let out a gasp. “Jon. You’re really pulling out all the stops here, aren’t you?”

He wrapped her in his arms from behind. “Is it working?” he whispered in her ear. Her shiver travelled throughout his body. 

She ignored his question. “This is beautiful. I’ve never seen Brightwater Keep like this before.” 

Jon sighed in relief. He imagined that she probably knew the keep quite well from the inside, having attended numerous events. He discovered this spot in September when he drove from Winterfell to Oldtown. Sometimes he came up here to clear his mind, remind himself of his goals. Brightwater Keep was expertly illuminated that he thought it looked even more breath-taking against the night sky. 

For a few minutes, they didn’t speak; they simply enjoyed the view and each other’s companies. “Thank you,” she said, turning in his embrace until she faced him. “For tonight—for humouring me,” she smiled. “And especially for telling me. I didn’t expect you to tell me so much about yourself. I’m s—”

But Jon covered her mouth with two fingers. He shook his head. “Let’s not go there.” 

“Fine,” she said against his fingers. “Then...ask me.”

He searched her eyes, making sure they were still safely tucked behind the invisible line they traced between the alternate universe of tonight and tomorrow. “Tell me what happened tonight.”

“Drogo and I...it’s bigger than me. I can’t stop it,” she walked away from him to sit on the bench. 

“What does that mean?”

“My family is bankrupt,” she said as if the statement held the answer to his every question.

He frowned. “How can a marchioness go bankrupt?”

“We don’t have enough time for me to explain all of that. But it’s gone—all of it. I’ve only learned the truth before the holidays.” Daenerys didn’t look at him. She picked at her perfectly manicured nails, her eyes unfocused on the beautiful keep in front of them. 

“How does Drogo fit in this equation?” He finally sat down next to her. 

She smiled bitterly, still not looking at him. “He’s the solution to my family’s problems.”

Jon frowned. It made no sense. 

Eventually, she sighed and turned to face him. “I’m supposed to marry him this summer.” 

_Fucking hells. What year is this, 297 AC?_

He must have spoken out loud because Daenerys laughed at him. “For some, it still is.”

“That’s absurd,” he scoffed. 

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“Like hells. They can’t make you.” He wanted to reach for her, hold her in his arms and never let go. 

Her eyes sparkled with unshed tears. “That’s how old families work, Jon. I—there’s no way for me out of this.”

“Fuck that. There has to be,” he growled. 

“What is it to you?” she challenged. A flicker of the usual mask Daenerys wore showed on her beautiful face before it slipped away again. “You’ll forget about me as soon as that clock hits twelve. And then you’ll go back to your life and I’ll go back to mine.”

This time he reached for her, wrapping one arm around her middle and the other underneath her thighs so he could sit her on his lap. “What is it to me?” Perhaps he was a fool to hope that somehow he could change her mind; that somehow tomorrow she’d look at him differently—that she’d give him a chance and call him hers. He didn’t say any of it out loud. 

“We make our own destiny, Daenerys. I know _you_ —” 

She laughed, a pained noise that broke free some of her tears. “I don’t think that’s true.”

“Shh, I do,” he said, thumbing away the tears from her cheeks. “If anyone can get out of this it’s you.”

She didn’t let him say anything else. Any attempts at talking were silenced by her plump lips. Eventually, he gave up speaking and pulled her flush to his body, kissing her harder. 

When she made sure he would be good, she got up and walked back to the car. But when Jon opened the passenger’s side, she shook her head. With a pointed look, she walked around him and opened the door to the backseat. Still looking at him, she climbed inside. 

His heart was hammering in his chest. He hoped against hope that this meant she wasn’t ready to forget this night between them; that despite her previous revelations, there was a future for them. With a deep breath, he closed the front door and climbed in the back after her. 

She didn’t waste any time; she pulled him into a searing kiss as soon as the door clicked shut behind him. She unzipped his jacket from her body and threw it on the front seat, then leaned back, pulling him down with her. He kissed down her neck, tasting her skin, committing her perfume and the sounds she made for him to his memory. 

Daenerys opened her legs further to accommodate his body over hers. He pulled the straps of her stress down to expose her breasts. Finally, his mouth closed over a pebbled nipple. He sucked on her nipple until her back arched off the seat, then did the same to the other. 

“Jon,” she moaned. It was the sweetest his name had sounded from someone’s lips. His right hand pushed up the silky material of her dress, exposing the milky skin of her legs. He wished he could see all of her, take his time, and finally kiss every inch of those legs that he’d seen daily on campus in short skirts and tight jeans. 

She brought his mouth back up to kiss him again. 

“Tell me to stop,” he rasped in between kisses. “Tell me you don’t want me and I’ll stop.”

The dim light of the moon did nothing to hide the intensity of her gaze. “I never wanted anything as much as I want you, Jon.”

“Thank all the old gods and the new,” he rasped in relief. He wanted to sit up but she wouldn't let him go. “I just want to get a condom,” he laughed.

“Oh—” she looked shy again; as if she hadn’t been the one to initiate sex in the first place. 

Jon reached over the seat to grab the box of condoms he knew he had in the glove compartment. While he was there, he pushed the passenger seat all the way to the front. 

After he gave her a condom, he kneeled down on the floor and positioned himself between her thighs. 

“Can I taste you?” he asked as he nipped at the tender skin underneath her left breast. 

“Yes,” she breathed. 

Jon kissed his way down from where the skirt of her dress was pooled around her waist, to the band of her underwear—if he could even call it that—a flimsy silk thong that matched the colour of her dress. She helped him slip it down her legs and take it off. With her legs over his shoulders, he leaned down to lick across the seam of her lips. One of her hands flew to his hair, grabbing at his locks, holding him down. He wished it was brighter outside so he could see how her cunt glistened with honey. Her smell and taste had his cock painfully throbbing in the tight confines of his jeans. 

“Right there,” she said when he sucked her clitoris in his mouth. 

Her hips bucked against his mouth; he tried to match the pace she was seeking, alternating between licking her clit and fucking her with his tongue. 

“Please, please,” Daenerys keened from above him. Her thighs wrapped tighter around his head, heels digging into his back, keeping him in place. He pushed a finger, then two inside her warm cunt, and fucked her like that, as he sucked on her clit. With one final cry, she came. Jon slowly lapped up the excess juices as she rode out the aftershocks of her orgasm. When her thighs went limp around his head, he pushed his way back up to her mouth. 

Daenerys pulled him over her and kissed him hungrily. “That was—” she rasped between kisses.

Jon didn’t even try controlling the smug smile that split his face. 

“Don’t let it go to your head,” she said as she palmed his erection through his jeans. 

He wanted to say it already had, but words failed him as she fumbled with the zipper. 

“Take these off and sit back,” she commanded. 

Who was he to question her? Jon pushed his jeans and boxer briefs to his ankles. She hooked a leg over his body, settling on his lap, adjusting her skirt so it wouldn’t get in the way. Impatiently, she reached for his cock and gave it a few pumps. His head fell back against the headrest. Her touch burned and pulled at his seams; it was too much.

He heard the wrapping of the condom crinkle somewhere between them, then felt her roll it down his shaft. 

She pulled his face to hers. “Still with me?” 

“Yes,” he rasped. “Yes,” he moaned as she lined him to her entrance. “Yes,” he cried against her neck as he felt her sink down onto him, slowly, inch by torturous inch, until he bottomed out. 

“Good?” he asked when she still hadn’t moved. 

Daenerys rolled her hips tentatively. “ _So_ good.” 

For the second time that night—or perhaps it was the third—he relinquished all control to her. He watched her ride him at her leisure, up and down and up and down until her movements grew erratic and impatient. All the while, he pinched her nipples and studied her face; he tasted her lips, her neck, and her breasts; he pulled on her hair and watched her smile and ask for more. When she told him that she was close one of hands closed around her waist and the other reached between them to rub her clit. 

“Say. My. Name.” He punctuated each word with a sharp thrust of his hips. 

“Jon. Jon. Jon,” she screamed. He watched her mesmerised as rapture broke across her face; when he fell over the edge immediately after her, it was with her name on his lips. 

Afterward, she held him to her chest and told him a story about a dragon princess and her handsome lover; about how he didn’t come to save her, but rather ran away with her. He could never tire of hearing her speak. He would have given anything in that moment to call her his. 

The ride back was short and silent. After all, her house wasn’t that far away from Brightwater Keep. He pulled over just at the gate. At best, they had two minutes before someone from security came to interrupt them. 

Daenerys righted her dress and tried to make herself look presentable again. 

“How do I look?” she asked, turning to him. 

Jon gave her a once over. “Thoroughly fucked.” 

She punched him in the arm. “I’m serious.”

“So am I,” he snorted. He didn’t want to let her go. “I—”

She didn’t give him the opportunity to say so. “Thank you for tonight, Jon. It meant more than you’ll ever know.”

He didn’t know what to say. 

She reached for his hand, squeezing it three quick times. “Goodbye, Jon.”

Jon nodded. He couldn't watch her go. Fear suddenly paralysed him; like a coward, he kept his eyes on the steering wheel. He heard the door click open, the scrape of her heels against the pavement, then the door closing. 

He knew how much he would hate himself if the night ended on that note. With more confidence than he felt at that moment, he pushed the button to lower the window on the passenger’s side.

“Princess,” he called. 

“Yes?” She turned to him immediately. 

He knew then that he’d made the right decision. Might as well push his luck one last time. “I’ll save you a seat tomorrow.” With one last wink, he turned the engine on and drove off. His eyes remained glued to the rear-view mirror until she walked through the gate.

💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕

He’d barely gotten any sleep. His thoughts were consumed by everything Daenerys. It didn’t help that his jacket smelled like her when he finally put it on the next morning. 

Somehow, he got through the first two classes, but only because those were subjects that Daenerys didn’t take with him. He didn’t allow panic to seep into his soul, at least not until the professor started the lecture of the first class they did share. He stared at the empty seat that he saved next to him for the next hour. 

She never skipped class. 

When they were heading to the cafeteria for lunch, he snapped at Sam when his friend asked if he had a nice Valentine’s Day. The pit in his stomach grew larger as he realised he didn’t even have her number. He tried discreetly asking around about her boyfriend, but no one had seen him that day—which, unfortunately, in itself wasn’t that uncommon. 

He was going insane. 

After much internal struggle, he decided to attend the last class then drive up to her house. He could always say that he was asked to check up on her by the faculty.

This time, he sat at the back of the class. To distract himself from watching the door like a crazed person, he pulled out the syllabus and started reading ahead. He wanted to throw the book across the room when he heard the professor greet the class.

There was a moment of silence, then the professor said something he didn’t catch—and quite frankly didn’t care. He wondered whether he could get away with bolting out of class; perhaps he could invent some excuse about a family emergency. 

Someone sat in the empty seat he had saved for Daenerys, blocking his exit. He looked up, ready to demand the person step away. 

He froze. Next to him, Daenerys was already writing in her notebook whatever the professor was saying. She didn’t acknowledge him; her gaze remained trained on the whiteboard. 

The professor cleared his throat. “Mr. Snow, is Miss Targaryen bothering you?” 

“No, sir,” he replied. 

“Right then, if you’d be so kind as to name the most important writings of Archmaester Gyldayn.”

“Certainly—” he said as he finally tore his eyes away from Daenerys. 

It wasn’t until halfway through the class—and after he answered a few more questions—that Daenerys acknowledged him. She shifted, slightly leaning towards his body. 

“Well,” she whispered. “It turns out that we do make our own destiny.”

For now, Jon didn’t care what happened. The only thing he cared about was the way her hand so easily reached for his and how she intertwined their fingers. Later, she’d tell him everything. All that mattered now was that she was there, with him, in the seat that he promised he would save for her. So when she squeezed his hand three times, he squeezed hers back just as many. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> Stay tuned *wink*


End file.
